What I'd Do Without You
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: "Now, Sam is nothing more than an angelic plaything, something that Ezekiel can use for leverage. "If you attempt to remove me before I am ready to leave," Ezekiel begins, circling the older brother. "I will kill your brother." It's like a sucker punch to the gut." *AU, post 9x04. Hurt!Sam, Protective/Guilty!Dean, Awesome!Charlie and Kevin. Cameo from Cas.*
1. Truth or Dare

_**Author's Note: **__This was written for the following prompt over at OhSam: "S09 AU: Every time Dean gets it in his head to tell Sam the truth or, heaven forbid, force Gadreel out of his brother himself, Gadreel conveniently zigs when he should have zagged, takes a nap, or just plain can't be bothered to to keep Sam's lungs expanding. Like his own personal "Mystery Spot," watching Sam suffer over and over again keeps Dean in line...until it doesn't. The boys work to rid Sam's body of its angelic life support, regardless of what the outcome means for Sam's health."_

_So, season 9 AU, set post 9x04. Charlie never goes to Oz and let's pretend that Kevin and Charlie have met during 9x04. I always felt like Dean should've come clean to Sam about what was going on with Gadreel way earlier than he did. Hence, this story. Fun fact, this story marks my 150__th__ on this site! Time really flies. Thanks for all the support! Enjoy this story! _

* * *

"_If you should ever leave me_

_Well, life would still go on believe me_

_The world could show nothing to me_

_So what good would living do me?"_

—_Mandy Moore, "God Only Knows"_

* * *

Dean can't keep doing this.

He can't keep looking his baby brother in the eye and continue lying to him. Lying about what happened after the angels fell, lying about the choices he made to save his brother, lying about how Sam isn't in total control of his body. Dean's lied to his brother before—many times before, some of them for the same misguided reason of keeping Sam safe—but he knows it never ends well. Now that Sam is alive and no longer in danger of dying, Dean has to come clean. The longer he keeps his mouth shut, the harder it will be for the truth to come out.

And the truth has to come out, one way or another.

Sam deserves to know the truth; Dean has to tell him.

"You are sure about this?" Ezekiel questions softly, brows furrowed in concern. "Should Sam reject me, I cannot guarantee his life." The way the angel so casually tosses that fact out makes Dean's shoulders tense. His big brother senses go off—the fear of losing Sam trying to trump his logic once more—but he forces himself to breath slowly and steadily.

"You said he was okay—" He jabs a finger in the angel's direction, accusatory.

"I said no such thing." Ezekiel interjects sharply, gaze narrowing. "I simply remarked that Sam's body was starting to help me with my efforts. That is by no means me saying that his body will survive without me."

The eldest Winchester weighs that fact, but comes to the same conclusion.

"I can't keep lying to him." Dean murmurs, because it's the truth and if the roles were reversed, he'd want to know whether an angel was possessing him. And after everything with Lucifer . . . no, he can't allow this to go on for a second longer than it has to. "It's Sam's body. He deserves to know. If he wants you gone . . . " The idea of Sam's lifeless eyes staring upwards fills his mind. He shudders but forces himself to keep talking. "Sam will have to make his choice. Hopefully, his body will be strong enough. If not . . ." He can't even finish the thought.

Ezekiel opens his mouth to say something else, but shuts it once more. Shrugging, he sighs softly.

"Very well," He replies coldly. "As you wish." He bows his head, eyes shutting. Then, Sam's head comes back up, eyes blinking back to their normal hazel color.

"Hey." His little brother greets with a grin. "I was just coming to talk to you. Kevin found something really—"

"Sammy." He interrupts, voice rough. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to figure out a way to ease into this conversation. How did you tell your sibling that you tricked him into being possessed? Hallmark didn't make an apology card for that. Sam will be furious—he might not speak to Dean ever again—but this is something that his little brother needs to know.

Regardless of what that means for their relationship, Sam has to find out and Dean has to be the one to tell him.

"Dean?" Sam's voice is tinged with concern and he takes a few steps towards his older brother. "Is everything okay?" He places a reassuring hand on his older brother's shoulder, those puppy dog eyes out in full force.

"I'm fine." He waves off his little brother's concern. "But I need to tell you something." He grimaces, biting his lower lip nervously. "It's about what happened after the angels fell."

"Yeah, sure." Sam yawns, big and loud, his eyes slightly watering. He sits down on top of the wooden table, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He blinks a few more times and manages to yawn instead. "Sorry. I just haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately."

They've been pulling some all-nighters with Kevin, researching various topics in the hopes of helping Castiel as well as trying to find more information on how to stop Metatron. So far, nothing they'd found had been particularly useful, but they kept trying. There had to be some sort of clue in these archives, something that they could use to save the day once more.

But, no, he has to focus on the task at hand. Telling Sam the truth—

His little brother's eyes drift closed for a few moments, before he jerks back awake. He's losing his battle with exhaustion, that much is obvious.

"It can wait a few hours." Dean finally decides, voice barely above a whisper. "Go get some sleep."

"What?" Sam echoes. "Dean, are you—?" He rises from the table, ready to protest further.

"It's all good." The eldest Winchester dismisses with a fake grin in place. Then, placing an arm around his sibling's back, he begins to guide Sam towards his bedroom. "Get some sleep, Sammy."

"Okay." Sam finally relents and it's a testament to how exhausted he is that he doesn't put up more of a fight. He tacks on, "If you're sure."

"I am." The older brother murmurs, opening Sam's door.

Sam's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

With a soft smile on his lips, Dean closes the door. Damn it all, this is going to be harder than he thought. If he tells Sam the truth, there's no question that his little brother will be furious. Furious, actually, will be an understated. Enraged, most likely. Pissed off, definitely. Sam will scream and shout and curse Dean out; he'll threaten to leave and ask why Dean would do such a thing.

And what else can Dean say for his defense? Sam's life had been in danger. Sam had been dying and the doctors were giving up hope. Dean had been desperate.

People always assume that as the oldest, he's the strongest out of the two. They're wrong. If Dean comes across as strong, it's only because Sam is there beside him, supporting him, picking him up when he falls. Sam is his heart, his soul, and his guiding force. Without Sam, there is no Dean.

And maybe that's twisted, maybe that's not healthy, but that's the way it is. Dean exists for Sam, because of Sam, all for Sam. He was raised as a hunter, yes, but the moment his mother put Sam in his arms, he became a big brother first. He meant every word he said to Sam in the church, there is nothing he would put in front of his baby brother.

Sam dying . . . that was simply unacceptable.

Dean made his choice and now he will face the consequences.

"Oh." Kevin mutters, nearly crashing into the older brother. "Sam asleep?" The prophet's eyes are nearly bloodshot and the eldest Winchester curses under his breath. Kevin's still a kid, for God's sake. He may be a prophet, may have seen way more than anyone his age should see in life, but he's still a kid.

"Bed for you too." Dean orders and Kevin blinks a few times, seemingly shocked.

"Huh?" He asks.

"Research can wait a few hours." Dean replies, moving Kevin towards his room.

"But I think I found—"

"Bed." Dean repeats, more forcefully this time.

"Uh . . ." Kevin hesitates for a few moments outside his door, before nodding his assent. "Okay, then." He opens the door. "Night."

"Get some rest, Kevin." Dean tells him quietly and Kevin nods his head before closing the door behind him.

"Awesome." The older brother sighs, wondering what he will do now. He'd been ready to tell Sam the truth, to deal with the inevitable fallout, but now he's stuck. There is really nothing he can do right now but wait.

Still, he resolves to help out on this research and moves towards the study. A few hours of decoding ancient texts will keep his mind off his problems.

It's a temporary fix, but it will have to do for now.

* * *

Oddly, the next morning, Sam is nowhere to be found.

Kevin is in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal while his eyes scan the latest _Avengers _comic—a gift from Charlie when she came to visit and found that the teen was staying with them—and he barely acknowledges the eldest Winchester.

"Where's Sam?" Dean finally asks, because something feels off. Sam never takes off without at least leaving a note, especially when he knows how worried Dean gets. What with him still healing after the Trials, Sam should know better than to just leave without so much as a word.

"Store." Kevin replies blandly, flipping the page in his comic. "Said you needed him to pick up some groceries?"

"Huh?" Dean mentioned that he needed to go get some groceries in passing, but he never meant for Sam to go in his stead. Grocery shopping is a chore, yeah, but Dean enjoys doing it. Something as mundane as grocery shopping helps ground him in this chaotic world. "How long ago did he leave?"

"You just missed him." The teen answers, eyes glancing up briefly from the comic. Then, as if sensing the distress rolling off the older man, he closes the comic. Brows furrowing, the prophet tacks on, "He seemed fine, Dean. If I thought he was sick or something, I would've stopped him."

It's an olive branch of sorts.

"Don't worry about it, Kevin." The older brother dismisses. "Just . . . let me know when he gets back."

"Yeah, sure."

Kevin looks at him expectantly, like he's waiting for Dean to explain his odd behavior. But that's a conversation for another time and without another word, the eldest Winchester turns around and heads for the study. An hour of reading would keep his mind off worrying and it might even give him something useful.

Yeah, that's all he needs—busywork.

* * *

Sam returns three hours later, arms loaded with groceries and Charlie in tow.

"Look who I found!" Sam calls as both his brother and Kevin enter the entryway. Footsteps echo in the hall and soon, a glimpse of red hair flashes by as she descends the staircase.

"Sup bitches!" Charlie exclaims, a dazzling smile alighting on her lips.

"Charlie!" Kevin shouts, a rare smile twisting his lips upwards.

"Hey there!" She hugs him tightly. Breaking apart, she looks up to meet his gaze. "Oh my god, are you even taller than me?"

The teen ducks his head sheepishly, chuckling softly.

Punching him playful in the shoulder, she adds, "Not you too! It's bad enough that I feel like a dwarf with Sam and Dean, but now you Kevin?"

"Sorry, Charlie." Kevin tells her and the redhead just beams. "What are you doing in town?"

"I just came to visit my mom's grave." She replies softly, voice tinged with grief. Though time has passed since her mother's passing, the pain is still clearly something the self-proclaimed geek deals with on a daily basis. "I ran into Sam at the store and decided why not come and see all of you."

"That's great!" The teenager hollers, bursting at the seams with enthusiasm. "Hey, what'd you bring with you?"

Charlie chuckles and reaches for her bag.

"Is that all I'm good at? Bringing you presents?" She teases, messing his hair with her hand.

"Sorry, sorry," He murmurs. Then, smirking, he adds, "Did you bring me something?"

"Here, you vulture." She opens her bag and pulls out a few DVDs. "Advanced copies of the latest movies." She winks. "You're welcome."

"Thank you!" Kevin shouts, already sprinting to his room to begin to binge watch the new films.

"Honestly," The redhead sighs fondly. "He's such a little kid."

"He deserves to be." Dean adds quietly. "If only for a moment."

"Yeah." Sam mumbles, a hint of sadness resonating in his tone.

"So!" Charlie jumps up impulsively, shattering the dark atmosphere of regret that had been building. "Shall we have some fun?" She grins brightly, coming to stand in the middle of the two brothers.

And though Dean is grateful to have her here, he can't help but feel that all his chances of telling Sam the truth are slipping through his fingers.

"Yeah," He forces a smile on his face. "Of course."

* * *

The next morning, he pulls Charlie aside and asks her to take Kevin for the day.

"What?" She echoes, perplexed. "I mean, I like Kevin, but I thought he had to stay here for his own safety—"

"I've already put sigils on your car," He gestures to her yellow bug on the street. "And Kevin is under orders to stay with you."

"Dean." Charlie folds her arms across her chest and leans in, their noses almost touching. "What is going on?"

"I don't know what you—" He begins to shake his head dismissively.

"Cut the crap, would you?" She chides sharply. "When I ran into Sam at the store, he was acting weird too. Did you two get into a fight or something?"

He's about to deny it when he realizes something.

"Wait, Sam was acting weird?" Dean nearly growls, tone biting. "How weird?"

"What is going on here, Dean?" The Queen of Moondoor questions, raising her voice a bit. Then, as if putting the final piece in the puzzle together, she steps closer to him. "Does this have anything to do with what happened to me the last time I was here?"

Right. Last time she had been here, Charlie had died only to come back to life courtesy to the angel residing in Sam's body. Instead of making up an excuse, or hey, telling the truth, he'd asked her to just drop it for the moment. Well, that moment is up. Dean can't explain it all to her right now—he wouldn't even know how to start if he even tried.

"Dean?" She presses, eyes widening ever so slightly with concern. She places a warm hand on his shoulder and tries to get him to open up to her. "What is it? You can tell me."

He sucks in a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair.

"Dean?"

"Just . . ." He forces himself to focus back on her, forces himself to stay steady on his feet. He cannot freak out about this, not now, and definitely not when he doesn't even know what she has to say. He, of all people, knows that Sam can act weird in a variety of ways—all of which are just part of his brother's personality.

"Just tell me how he was acting." He manages to get out. "Please."

"Yeah, okay." It becomes obvious by how accommodating the redhead has gotten that she seems to sense that there's more riding on her answer than anything she could figure out by herself. "It was just weird. Sam didn't really say much. He kind of just stood there and he . . ." She twisted a strand of her hair around her finger. "He basically ordered me to come with him."

"Ordered?" The older brother balks. Sam doesn't order people around—there's not a bossy bone in his little brother's body. Sure, Sam speaks his mind and he will tell you what he thinks even if you don't want to hear it, but he never tells people what to do. He'll disagree with your decision and try to make you change your mind, but he would never order you around.

Especially not with someone like Charlie, whom they view more of as a sister than just a peculiar young woman.

"He was very cold and distant." She adds on, biting her lower lip, almost nervously. "I just thought you two were fighting but now . . ." Her eyes brim with tears. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, but it seems to do no good as more tears fill their place. "What's going on, Dean? Is Sam okay?" She gasps as the possibilities swim through her mind. "Is it something to do with the Trials—?"

"Hey, hey." He pulls her roughly into a hug, tucking her face onto the crook of his shoulder. "It's okay, Charlie. I'm going to fix things right now." He rubs comforting circles on her back, the kind Bobby used to do for him as a child, a near lifetime ago it feels like. He may not know what to say to Sam, but in this moment, he can comfort Charlie.

"I'll take Kevin." She finally says as she calms down. "Just . . . let me know if I can be of any help."

"I will." He assures her.

She nods shakily, plastering a smile on her lips. She turns to her car where Kevin is blasting music like any other teenager. She's just about to get in when he calls out once more,

"And Charlie?"

"Yeah?" She holds the driver's door open, a blast of music blaring. Kevin's rocking out, acting his own age for once.

"I still owe you an explanation. Give me some more time."

Her response is just to grin and give a thumbs up.

As he watches them drive away, he can't help but feel immensely grateful to the young woman. The first time he met her, he just assumed she was useless and downright annoying, but now . . .

She'd proved him wrong.

"Okay." He turns to face the bunker door. "Let's do this."

It's time to put an end to this.

* * *

"Hey." Sam glances up from one of the ancient Greek scrolls he found in the archives. He lifts the scroll up a bit, gesturing for his older brother to come look. "I found something about angels. It's obscure and granted, my Greek is a bit rusty, but it might still be—" He's rambling, excited by his discovery, by the possibility that it holds not only for Castiel, but for everyone else.

"Sammy, I just need you to listen to me." His own voice sounds broken already and he hangs his head in shame. Every fiber in his being is screaming for him not to do this. What about Sam, after all? Sam's life is on the line and—

"What is it?" The youngest Winchester puts the scroll aside and directs all his attention on his older brother's hunched figure.

"I did something." He confesses and immediately, Sam jerks back, like he's been slapped. Nothing good has ever come of that statement—they both know that.

"Okay." Sam lets out a shaky breath. "Tell me."

Dean forces himself to look his brother straight in the eye and wills the truth to come tumbling from his lips.

"Sam, after the angels fell, you were dying. I took you to a hospital and—"

The little brother coughs and then tries to clear his throat. A tendril of fear clamps down on Dean's heart.

"M'not . . ." Sam gasps and it becomes evident by the way he's gesturing to his chest that the kid can't breathe. "Oxygen?"

"Easy." Dean checks him over, careful eyes scanning for some sign of distress that he can fix, but there's nothing obvious. Sam's not choking. There's nothing wrapped around his neck to remove. And his chest—

It isn't rising.

He checks again, making sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him. But as the painful seconds drift by, Sam's chest still doesn't rise.

It's almost as if his lungs are locked.

"D'n." Sam wheezes, lips turning blue, eyes wide with panic because suffocating is definitely an awful way to go and Dean can't do anything to fix this! He doesn't even know what brought this on—

"Zeke!" Dean roars, putting the pieces together and wishing it formed a different picture. "Stop this!"

An unasked question alights in Sam's eyes, but there is no trace of the angel in that gaze.

"Hold on, Sammy." He tries to keep the terror out of his own tone, but he can tell that he's failing miserably. "Zeke! Dammit, fix him!"

Sam lists, eyes falling shut. His pulse stutters under Dean's fingertips until it fades away.

Sam's dead.

And suddenly, Dean's back in Cold Oak, back in Stull Cemetery, watching his baby brother being taken from him and being powerless to stop it. He's not doing this again—this cannot be happening. His head shakes; his fingers tremble, jostling Sam's lifeless body. No, no, this isn't real. This cannot be real. Sam will wake up any second. He'll open those wide hazel eyes and smile that stupid relieved grin and the pressure constricting Dean's lungs will loosen.

But Sam doesn't wake up.

Dean refuses to accept that he's lost Sam once more.

"Zeke!" His voice breaks as a single tear rolls down his cheek. He clutches at Sam's body, willing his lungs to work and if not, then for Dean's to stop. For there is no life for him without Sam and if this is where Sam's story ends, then it's time for Dean's to stop as well.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Sam's chest expands and Ezekiel rises from the floor, cool and collected.

"Dean." The angel greets, voice devoid of any hint of emotion. He nods his head slightly in greeting.

"What the hell was that?" Dean growls, jumping to his feet. He wants to smack the angel clear across the face, but he resists only because it might hurt Sam. Still, his anger bubbles close to the surface and burns through him. Sam almost died—no, Sam was dead for a moment—and that alone is enough to get this angel on Dean's kill list.

"I fail to comprehend—" The angel begins to lie.

"No, no, don't pull that bullshit on me." Dean hisses, hands curling into fists of their own accord. "First, you bully Charlie and now you kill Sam and bring him back?" He steps closer to the angel, menacing. "What kind of game are you playing?"

"I am not playing at anything." The angel retorts sharply. His eyes flash with a heavenly grace and the lights in the bunker seem to dim as the grace fills every corner of the room. "The girl seemed distressed. I simply offered for her to be with her friends. And as for Sam . . ." He smirks ever so slightly. "I simply wanted to prepare you for what will happen when you tell Sam the truth." He tilts his head to the side, ever so slightly and chuckles. "Surely you see that Sam will expel me. When he does, Sam shall die." A somber expression covers his visage. "Are you prepared for that?"

"No, this isn't about me." Dean shakes his head. "You don't want to go, do you?" Because that's the only reason that could explain the angel's reckless actions. Ezekiel has been so careful with Sam before because without Sam, he's a powerless angel. Without Sam, he's nothing. And the prospect of losing Sam . . . it must seem dire to the angel.

"Ideally, I would stay." He murmurs, eyes never leaving Dean's. It's a challenge, anyone can see that. Neither of them is backing down and it's Sam that's caught in the middle.

"I'm telling Sam." Dean states, as clearly as he can possibly say it. Enough is enough. His little brother deserves the truth and deserves to make his own decision. "And if you pull another stunt like that—"

"What will you do?" The angel asks, genuinely curious. "I am within Sam, Dean. Without me, his lungs will cease to work and his heart will stop."

"Are you threatening me?" The eldest Winchester whispers, unable to comprehend what is happening in this moment. He knows now that he's made a huge mistake. Yeah, it saved Sam in the short term, but now? Now, Sam is nothing more than an angelic plaything, something that Ezekiel can use for leverage. In some ways, this is even worse than when Lucifer was in charge. Sam broke free of that hold through his sheer force of will, but with his little brother in the dark, Dean can't count on his help.

"If you attempt to remove me before I am ready to leave," The angel begins, circling the older brother. "I will kill your brother."

It's like a sucker punch to the gut.

"But why?" Dean gasps, finally regaining his voice. "If you need Sam just as much as he needs you—"

"I do not need Sam." The angel spits, almost as if the idea of leaning on a human is disgusting. "I simply do not wish to expend energy searching for another vessel."

"I won't let you do this—!"

The room burns with heavenly light and Ezekiel's broken wings are projected onto the wall. He seems almost like a giant and Dean knows he won't win this fight, but dammit it all, he can't give up! He has to save Sam from this and free him, at any cost.

"I will kill you should you get in my way," The angel growls. "Make no mistake about that, Dean Winchester." Then, softer, he lets the power go, until it's almost Sam that stands before him, save for the glowing eyes. "And if I have to, I will kill Sam too."

"Ezekiel—" He reaches his hand out, ready to knock some sense into the angel if that's what it takes, but the fight instantly drains out of him. He's right. He's in Sam and if he hurt the angel, he'd be hurting Sam too.

He's between a rock and a hard place.

The angel's glowing eyes fade and return to a normal hazel color.

"Dean?" Sam blinks a few times, rubs his chest absently, as if trying to recall the reason why he has phantom pain. "What's going on?"

"You okay?" The older brother's eyes sweep over his sibling, just making sure there's nothing out of place.

"I'm fine." Sam states, a bit perplexed. "Did something happen? I thought we were talking about something."

Here's his chance to come clean, like he should've done on day one. He can tell Sam the truth right now, use some sort of code so Ezekiel won't know until it's too late, but . . .

The haunting image of Sam's lifeless eyes staring up to him fills his mind and he shudders.

"Dean?" Sam tries once more, clearly concerned. "What is it?"

It's the moment of truth.

"Nothing, Sammy." He lies, forcing an easy grin on his lips. "Nothing at all."

And the truth stays buried once more.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__This whole piece is written out and the next part will be published shortly! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks! _


	2. Follow Through

_**Author's Note: **__Enjoy the final part!_

* * *

"_So if you're ever lost and find yourself all alone_

_I'd search forever just to bring you home,_

_Here and now this I vow."_

—_Nickelback, "I'd Come For You"_

* * *

"Sam, I let an angel named Ezekiel possess you!"

Dean snaps a few weeks later in the library, not being able to handle the guilt anymore. He's sick of looking into his brother's eyes and wondering how long this cat and mouse game will go on for.

Sam, for his part, blinks for a few moments, stiffens and seems very much like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

"What did you . . . what?" His sibling echoes, voice faint and tinny. He's in disbelief, in total shock. The expression on his face is blank and Dean can see those wheels turning in his sibling's brain, trying to make sense out of what he considers an impossibility.

"I'm sorry." There's so much more to say than that, but before the older brother can get out anything else out, Sam's collapsed on the floor, lungs frozen, heart beat fading.

"D-Dean." Sam gaps and it cuts through the fog of pain and suddenly, he goes limp in Dean's arms.

"Ezekiel!"

The angel opens Sam's eyes and gets up without any indication of pain. He narrows his gaze at Dean and then places an open palm outstretched before him.

A gust of wind materializes and the oldest Winchester goes flying back, colliding with the wall of the library. He gasps as his lungs deflate from the force of impact and he tries to catch his breath.

"Heed my warning, Dean Winchester." Ezekiel states coldly. "Or the next time, I shall not be as merciful."

The glow slowly fades back to hazel.

"Dean!" Sam exclaims, rushing over to his brother's side. "What happened?"

"Training accident." He answers gruffly, forcing himself to his feet.

"In the library?" His sibling questions, not buying the lie.

"Yeah." Dean lies.

And before any other questions can be asked, he's out the door, out into the cool night breeze and then in the front seat of the Impala, blasting Metallica and trying to find some way to keep the ruse going.

It doesn't look promising though.

* * *

It's not until weeks later in the basement that a breakthrough is made.

"And you're sure about this?" Dean starts, hope surging through his veins like a raging waterfall. He glances at the faded piece of paper that the teenager has managed to find and examines the symbols scribbled onto it. He commits them to memory and thanks whoever was smart enough to come up with them.

He can finally tell Sam.

"Look, I don't know if it will work, but it's definitely better than nothing." Kevin sighs, pinching his cheek in an effort to stay awake. "You wanted something to suppress angels? You got it." The teen's brows furrow. "I'm not sure what you need it for, but . . ." He shrugs, eyes drooping shut. "It doesn't matter."

Dean pats the teenager on the back, jarring him back awake.

"Kevin, thank you." The older brother reaches under the small fold up table they have here for the can of spray paint and moves to cover the wall with the symbol. A few moments later, he's got one symbol up and a huge grin on his face.

"You going to explain why you needed this symbol?" Kevin ventures, hoping to get some sort of response. He doesn't though; Dean's too busy covering the walls with the crimson spray paint.

"Look," Dean begins over the din of the spray. "I want you to go with Charlie for a few days."

"Wait, why?" Kevin balks, sounding every inch the impertinent teenager. Then, adding quickly, "I mean, I like Charlie, but Dean what's going on? You've been acting strange ever since Sam got out of the hospital—"

The spraying stops and with a small sigh, the eldest Winchester turns to face the distressed prophet.

"I need you to trust me—"

"No!" Kevin shouts, shaking his head. "I've been trusting you and you just keep getting more and more cryptic!" He crosses the gap between the two of them and meets Dean's gaze. Seeing the worry in the older man's eyes, the teen's shoulders slump somewhat as he loses some of the rigidness of his stance. Softly, he asks, "Dean, what aren't you telling me?"

It's a loaded question—one that could cause his carefully constructed plan to go up in flames should Ezekiel gets news of it. He's so close to telling Sam the truth, to getting rid of the angel's hold over him. He can't risk losing this small advantage, not when the odds are still stacked against him.

"I can't tell you now." Kevin opens his mouth to protest and Dean quickly adds, "But I will! As soon as it's all over." He manages a rare grin at the prophet. "I promise, Kevin." Then, expression sobering, he grimaces somewhat. "Just . . . go with Charlie for right now."

Kevin mulls this over for a few moments. Finally, placing his hands in his front jeans pockets, he sighs.

"Yeah. Fine." Then, pointing at Dean, he practically hisses, "But when I get back, you better—"

"I got it. The full story." The eldest Winchester promises hastily. Then, gesturing to the door, he adds, "You better get ready. She'll be here in a few hours."

"I'll be ready." Kevin assures him. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he seems to think better of it. Shrugging, he moves to the door, letting it close behind him with a thud.

"At least he'll be safe." Dean murmurs to himself.

It's going to end tonight.

One way or another, Sam is going to find out the truth and maybe that will get them both killed, but they've beaten the fucking Apocalypse before, so surely they can handle a rogue angel, right? And if they can't, if this really is the end of them, at least they'll go out together and no one else will suffer because of a mistake he made in his most desperate hour. Kevin, Charlie and Castiel—they'll live and they'll make a difference.

It's not like Dean wants to die; he doesn't. But he knows that the odds them freeing Sam from Ezekiel without killing him are slim to none. He will not let Sam die alone again. No, this time, they go out together or not at all. Because, he is sure, deep down in every fiber of his being, that there is no Dean without Sam. You could call it an unhealthy codependence or whatever psycho jargon you wanted, but the fact still remains.

Dean can't live without Sam.

He's done it before and he can't—won't—do it again.

So, yeah, maybe tonight is his last night to live, but one thing's for sure.

He and Sam aren't going down without a fight.

* * *

Four hours, 43 minutes, and 23 seconds later, Kevin is gone, the sigils are up and he's finally got Sam in the basement. This is it—the make it or break it moment.

"Uh . . ." The taller brother glances around at the multitude of sigils adorning the floors, walls and even the ceiling. "What exactly is all this?"

Part of him wants to lie since that's what he's been doing for so long. The idea of actually voicing the truth is a little terrifying now, especially since he's not sure what the outcome is going to be. Nevertheless, he has to do it.

"Angel suppression wards." He replies bluntly as there is no point in mincing words. "They stop an angelic host from manifesting itself."

"Okay." Sam manages to say, taking a step closer to his brother. His head is titled slightly to the side, as if he can't quite decipher the true meaning of that last sentence. "So, why are they up here?"

Dean sucks a ragged breath in.

"Because after the angels fell you were dying and the doctors said there was nothing they could do."

He remembers that night so clearly. Sam shaking, gasping for air but unable to get any, and reaching for his big brother for support, support that Dean couldn't provide. The frantic drive to the hospital, the million machines that Sam had been hooked up to, and the doctor's grim prognosis—he can recall all of it still in perfect detail.

"I'm okay now though." Sam assures him with a quick grin. "You don't need to—"

"I screwed up, Sammy." He confesses, voice cracking. "I did something."

Sam's puppy dog eyes emerge, sympathy and concern practically dripping from them.

"What, Dean?" Sam whispers.

"I prayed in the hospital. I begged for an angel to come and fix you, told them that I would do anything—"

"You didn't." Sam whispers, eyes widening as the comprehension starts to kick in, as that big brain of his puts the pieces together. He begins to shake his head, willing for the malicious thoughts in his head to vanish. "Dean, tell me that you didn't—"

"An angel named Ezekiel came." Dean plows on, forcing himself to keep his gaze on Sam, even though the look of betrayal slowly consuming his brother's horror-stricken face is twisting a knife in his gut and slowly, painfully killing him. "He told me he could heal you, but he was too weak to do so on his own. He said . . ." He forces himself to breathe and then continue. "He said that he could heal himself and you if he was possessing you. I told him to do it."

"You told an angel to possess me?" Sam roars, shoving his brother hard against the wall. "Why would you do that?" Then, seemingly remembering something, he lets go of his brother and backs up. "Wait, wait, I didn't give my consent—" Still clinging to his last shred of hope and Dean hates that he has to crush that too.

"I told Ezekiel to get your consent, by any means necessary." His fists are clutched so tight that it burns. His knuckles are white and he can feel his world slipping away. "He got it. You agreed."

It's the final crack in Sam's carefully constructed armor.

"You bastard!" Sam screams, sucker punching his brother clear across the jaw.

Dean staggers back, the taste of copper pooling in his mouth. He spits out the blood and faces his enraged little brother. He forces himself to breathe, to take a few moments, before saying anything. But Sam quickly interjects,

"After Lucifer? After everything I've been through, you tricked me into being possessed by another angel?" Sam paces back and forth, almost as if he isn't sure exactly where to go next.

"I couldn't let you die!" Dean fires back. "Sammy, I couldn't watch you slip away!"

"I was ready, Dean!" The little brother admits loudly, voice bouncing off the basement walls. "I was ready to die—!"

"Well, I sure as hell wasn't!" He hollers, slamming his hand against the wall. The pain doesn't even faze him; he can't even feel it really. Everything is numb, save for the feel of his heart pounding in his chest. "I couldn't lose you, Sammy! Not after everything—"

"So, what?" Sam challenges defiantly, arms spread out wide. "You made the choice to do the one thing I never wanted to have happen to me again? That was the brilliant plan?" His little brother chuckles brokenly and lets his head hang low. "You know, you've done some stupid shit before, but this?" Another dry laugh and then he trains his cold hazel eyes back on his brother's. "This is low. This is the worst thing you've ever done to me."

That stings, burns like corrosive acid.

Sam's done with this, that much is obvious. Dean knows what every shift of his brother's body means, often understands what Sam is thinking hours before Sam ever voices it and in this moment, Dean can see that Sam wants nothing more than to march up those stairs, pack a duffel and storm out the bunker and never look back. He doesn't want to hear the flawed logic behind his brother's choice nor does he want to even be in the same room as his sibling.

He's finished with Dean.

And it reminds him of that bitter June night so many years ago, of the crumpled acceptance letter lying on the dingy carpeted motel floor, of when Sam pleaded with those puppy dog eyes to support him in his choice to go to Stanford and Dean had remained silent. But, most of all, it reminds him of seeing Sam's back as he turned and left his old life—left Dean—behind.

It's happening all over again.

"Sam, if you reject Ezekiel, you'll die." He murmurs, voice cracking. "Your body is too weak—"

"Just stop talking!" Sam hisses, pressing his fingers to his temples. "I can't . . . This is all . . ." The little brother lets out a shaky breath and continues to pace. He runs a hand through his hair and begins to rub his temples, his eyes shut.

"Sammy." It pains Dean to see his younger brother in so much pain. He wants nothing more than to soothe Sam and make his brother feel safe and okay again. But this is a betrayal—Dean knew that it would be the moment he agreed to it—and if he's learned anything about his baby brother, it's that Sam needs his time to process everything.

"How do I get rid of the angel?" Sam spins to Dean, eyes widening with panic. He's like a caged animal, desperate to free once more. "What do I have to do?"

"But, you'll die—!"

"I can't deal with another angel in me." Sam snaps sharply. "I have to break free or . . ." His voice trails off and he shakes his head, almost in disbelief. "Do I just say that I reject this . . . Ezekiel?"

"I don't know, Sam." He confesses because he doesn't have the answer for this one, not yet. "With these wards up, I'm not sure if that will even do any good."

Sam nods at that, then his eyes flash with comprehension. "That's why you've acting so weird lately. You were trying to tell me—"

"I have told you." Dean confesses softly, slipping his hands into his pockets. The memories of Sam's lungs locking fills his brain and he flinches at the rush of grief that pools within him. He blinks a few times, banishing the bad memories and focusing back on the present. "But every time, Ezekiel has killed you."

"Killed me?" Sam echoes, astounded.

"And then he brought you back."

His little brother sighs, eyes shutting and he pinches the bridge of his nose, irritated. Those big wheels in his brain are spinning around and around and Dean can't help but feel a little bit proud of how smart his little brother is and how quickly he's creating a solution.

"He needs me then." Sam concludes, that analytical mind processing at full speed. He glances at Dean. "To heal himself?"

"Yeah." Dean confirms.

"Okay, then killing me and bringing me back, it was all a ploy to keep you in line." He gestures vaguely to his brother, brows furrowing as he keeps thinking over all the clues. "But that also means, he won't leave without a fight."

Dean reaches out to touch his brother's shoulder, "Sam—"

"Don't." Sam jerks back, as if his big brother's touch hurts like lightning. "Just . . . don't."

"Okay." He relents, though it cuts him like a knife. Keeping his distance from Sam? He's never been good at that. Hell, it took all of his strength not to drive out to Stanford the half a dozen times he thought about it. He'd missed Sam though—missed laughing with him, missed hunting with him, but most of all, he missed being with him.

The loneliness was the worst part of it all.

Those long nights trying to fall asleep to cars rumbling by the motel instead of his brother's even breathing; the endless stretches of haunted hallways wondering if this was the time that not having Sam backing up would kill him; but, perhaps worst of all, it the was the empty shotgun seat in the Impala that nearly destroyed him. The silence of it all was deafening; the realization that Sam was gone nearly destroyed him, and the fact that he had chosen the all-important "normal" over his brother was the killing blow.

There's silence now and it stings like corrosive acid.

"When this is all over," Sam points to himself, grimacing. "I'm going to need some time for myself."

It's a more polite way of saying that he's leaving. Dean tries to not let it faze him because he knew—he always knew—that this would happen the moment Sam found out the truth. He just is not prepared for how painful it is to have that knowledge confirmed.

So, he forces a tight grin on his lips and replies, "Yeah, Sammy. Of course."

Later, when this is all over, he'll talk to Sam. He'll get on his knees and beg if he has to, but he won't let his little brother walk out the door again.

But for now, they have an angel to get rid of.

* * *

The solution, it turns out, is simpler than they anticipated.

Since Ezekiel is technically an intruder and not actually using Sam as his host, all the youngest Winchester needs to do is formally revoke access to his body. All that takes is a few Latin phrases and the ingredients for a banishing spell. Even now, in the basement, Sam is mixing up the salt and commonplace herbs they use for this spell.

"You double check the Latin?" Dean asks, dipping the rag in warm water before once more washing one of the sigils on the walls. The spray paint thins a little bit more and Dean can't help but grimace. Once this sigil is gone, Ezekiel will return. The eldest Winchester doesn't know how much the rogue angel has heard—or if he's heard anything really—but it still unnerves him.

"Yeah." Sam's answer is short and clipped, his eyes locked on the bowl. If he's worried, Dean can't tell. His brother's face is impassable and his eyes are cold.

"Okay."

The sigil is barely there now. One more wipe and Ezekiel will be back in full force.

"If this doesn't work—" Sam begins softly and Dean shakes his head, not willing to hear this.

"It will work." Dean grimaces, wringing the water out of the rag.

"But if it doesn't and he's still in control," Sam plows on, ignoring the pleading look on his brother's visage. He stirs the mixture once more and then sighs. "No matter what happens to me, you get him out." He flexes his hands, savoring what could be his last few seconds of being in control of his body.

"I will, Sam." Dean vows.

There's so much he wants to say right now—_I'm sorry, I love you, I can't lose you, forgive me_—but they've never been one to express feelings like that aloud. They've always shown how they've felt through their actions and now, maybe at the end of it all, Dean will stand by his brother's side and ride this out with him.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

Showtime.

With a careful flick of his wrist, the lit match falls down onto the mixture, alighting it. Sam rises from the floor where he placed the mixture and meets his brother's gaze, nodding.

Dean wipes the wall once more and the sigil clears. Almost immediately, the air in the room seems to sizzle, the temperature gets warmer. His ears pop as the pressure in the basement begins to grow.

"Ezekiel." Sam growls, his eyes shutting. "Ad quos eieci tibi angelus." _I banish thee, angel._ The flame flickers and a small wind begins to blow. "Ego expulsurus sum tibi angelus." _I expel thee, angel. _ Sam's voice starts to strain as he winces, brows furrowing in pain. Blood begins to drip from his nostril. His skin starts to grow paler; the red flush in his cheeks fades away.

"Sam—" Dean reaches for his brother, but he jerks back as an electric shock repels him. There's a war going on here, one that Dean can't participate him. He has to trust Sam and wait. He has to have faith that this will work out in their favor.

"Egredere, et non revertuntur ad eas!" _Begone, and never return!_ Sam screams over the din. The blood grows darker and thicker. Sam's body shakes, his knees buckling as he crashes to the floor. His body begins to list, but he somehow manages to right himself and focuses back on the spell. "Ad quos eieci tibi angelus. Ego expulsurus sum tibi angelus. Egredere, et non revertuntur ad eas." He chants quickly, breathless now and the wind becomes wilder and it's a miracle that the flame is still burning. The room is burning and the pressure feels like it's going to snap them both in half. Yet, Sam still chants and the battle rages on.

All Dean wants is for it to be over because he can't stand here and be useless. He needs to stop the bleeding and take care of his brother, like he's always done. He needs to know that Sam will survive this, that he'll show another angel who's in charge.

But most of all, he needs his brother to live. And yeah, maybe Sam will walk out the door as soon as this is over and never want to speak to Dean again, but at least his be alive to do so.

"C'mon, Sammy." He whispers. "Kick him out. You can do it."

The flame goes out; the wind stops.

"It's over?" He murmurs.

Sam's hazel eyes—hazel, not icy blue!—snap open and he gasps for air. Blindly reaching for his brother, his head sags as soon as he feels Dean's supporting arms around him, hoisting him up.

"He's gone." Sam wheezes, blood still flowing. "He's gone."

"Just stay with me, Sammy, okay?" Dean rips a piece of his shirt off and pitches his brother's head forward, pinching Sam's nostrils closed in an effort to stop the bleeding. "You gotta prove that bastard wrong, right?" He lets go of his brother's nose, but the blood quickly returns. "Shit."

"S'okay, D'n." Sam slurs, his cold and clammy hand touching his brother's neck in an effort to get Dean to focus back on his sibling's face. "M'ready."

"I'm not, Sam." His vision blurs, his cheeks flush. Under his fingertips, Sam's pulse stutters, growing slower and fainter as each second passes by. And through it all, the blood keeps flowing and it feels like Ezekiel is mocking Dean right now, telling him, _I told you so_.

Is this the end? Did all he do was delay the inevitable that night the angels fell? Was all of this really for nothing?

"S'okay." Sam's voice is barely above a whisper now and the blood has started to congeal on his face, growing darker sill. His hazel eyes flutter shut.

"Sam?"

His pulse stops.

"Sammy?"

It's over. Ezekiel is gone and so is Sam. And Dean? Dean's heart is still beating and his lungs are still breathing, even though all his can think about is dying as well. He needs Sam. He can't live another day without his brother again.

"Sam!" He screams, tear spilling down his cheeks. He pulls his brother's body towards his chest and hugs him tightly, willing his heart to shatter and kill him as well.

But it does no good.

He's still alive and Sam?

Sam is dead.

* * *

"Dean?"

He blinks a few times, meeting the wide-eyed gaze of Charlie. The young woman is kneeling next to him, beside his bed. She squeezes his shoulder with her hand, grounding him in the moment. He's back in his room, which is odd, since he doesn't remember going to bed. In fact, he doesn't really remember too much.

"Dean," She tries again, getting his attention this time as he refocuses his gaze on her concerned face. "Are you okay? Is Sam okay?"

The memories hit him like a semi-truck. Sam getting rid of Ezekiel, Sam bleeding out and Sam dying—

"Sam!" He hops up from the floor, the room swaying a bit. He tries to push past her, but his knees buckle.

"Easy!" Charlie chides him as she steadies him. "Dean, what's going on? Kevin and I hadn't heard from you so we—"

"Sam is—!" He can't bring himself to say the awful world. He can't admit to himself that his little brother is actually gone. He's failed. Sam is—

"Hey." Sam is standing the doorway, dark bags under his eyes, but he's breathing and alive.

"Sammy?" He whispers, afraid to believe what he's seeing. "Sammy, you're . . ?"

"I'm okay." The little brother replies, voice filled with fatigue as he runs a hand through his shoulder. "He's gone."

"Who is gone?" Charlie interjects, frowning somewhat. She places her hands on her lips and glances at Sam and then back at Dean. "Why do I get the feeling like I've missed something important?" She moves towards the doorway and smiles at the two brothers fondly. "I'll just go check in with Kevin." She leaves, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

There's a few seconds where nothing is said.

"But your heart stopped." Dean crosses to his brother and can't help but place his palm on Sam's chest, finally relaxing once he feels that reassuring thump under his fingertips.

"I know." Sam replies. "Cas saved the day."

"Cas?" Dean echoes. "But how could Cas—?"

"It's a long story," Sam dismisses with a shrug. "I guess he got his grace back? I don't really know the details yet. I've been laid up in bed for most of the time he's been here." He gestured back towards the hallway. "He's still here though. He'll be glad you see that you're up now—"

"But you feel okay?" Dean persists, interrupting. "No more bloody nose? Nothing feels weird at all?"

"I'm good." Sam smiles, his eyes alighting with joy. "Just tired from losing all that blood." He runs a hand through his hair. "But he's gone."

"Jesus Christ, Sammy." He swears, his own voice rough with emotion. "I thought . . ."

"I know, Dean." His little brother answers. "I thought so too."

The eldest Winchester reaches for his brother, pulling him into his grasp. Hugging him tightly, Dean feels like he can finally breathe again. His brother is alive and Ezekiel is gone. Kevin, Charlie and Cas are all safe and sound. For just this moment, everything is right in his world.

He breaks off the hug and then lets out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. The weight on his shoulders is gone and while the guilt is still there, it's been lessened somewhat.

"About what you said," Dean starts, unsure if he wants to press this matter right now, not when he's gotten everything he's wanted and more in this moment, but he has to know. "Are you leaving?"

_Are you leaving me?_

Sam doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just shifts his weight back and forth.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still mad." He begins softly. "I mean, you let an angel possess me." Dean winces at the heat in his tone. "But, I understand why you did it and I do forgive you. It's just going to take some time for things to go back to the way they were."

That takes Dean aback.

"You . . . forgive me?" He mutters.

"I do." Sam sincerely states.

"Thank you, Sam."

"Hey, don't get too mushy on me." His brother jokes, tiredly. "You're such a girl."

"Oh, really?" Dean takes the bait, grateful to be able to banter with his brother like this. "Well, you better get back to bed, Sleeping Beauty, cause you look like you're about to fall over."

"Yeah, yeah." The youngest Winchester shrugs.

"I mean it, Sam." He guides his brother down the hall and to his bedroom door. Opening it, he gestures for his brother to go in. "Get some rest. You look like shit."

Sam chuckles at that and it brings a grin to Dean's face.

"Back at you." He grasps the doorknob. "Night, Dean."

"Get some rest, Sammy."

The door is closed.

They still have a lot of work to do, there's no question about that. They'll have to recover from this and he'll have to earn Sam's trust once more. But, even knowing that, he can't help but grin like a fool. His brother is alive. Anything else, they can deal with.

"Dean?" Kevin stands in the hallway, a grin tugging at his lips. "Everything okay?"

There are so many ways to answer that question, all of them bringing a grin to his face. Kevin and Charlie, they don't know everything that has transpired. He owes them an explanation for sure. Castiel is apparently an angel again and he's saved Sam somehow—that's a story that Dean needs to hear. There's so much he needs to explain to everyone and there will be a time and place for it. But for right now? All that matters is that everything is finally okay once more.

"Dean?" Kevin presses, concern entering his tone.

"Yeah, Kevin." He ruffles the teen's hair, laughing. "Yeah, everything is great."

And for this one moment, it is and he'll remember this moment in the dark days that come. Whatever comes their way, he will hold onto this perfect feeling of joy and relief. He'll treasure this memory, come what may.

But for now, it's time to celebrate.

"C'mon." He tells Kevin, grinning like a fool. "Let's go see the others."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__This piece is one of my favorites. It's also one of my longest! Every time I kept thinking it was the end, it just kept going and going. I think that turned out for the best though! I always like to explore AU's and I hope you all enjoyed it as well. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks! _


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